


ain't misbehavin'

by Waywarder



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1920s, Angst and Feels, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, F/F, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Smut, Songfic, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24581254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywarder/pseuds/Waywarder
Summary: Aziraphale held up her own fingers to signal the bartender.After her order had been taken, she sighed again. She knew what tomorrow would bring. She knew that the world was hurtling into more hurt and fear. Always always forever and ever amen.She just needed this one night off. Just the one more drink and she’d miracle herself home.In the morning, she’d be good again.In 1929, on the brink of another catastrophe for humanity, Aziraphale attempts to drown her worries in rum and jazz.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 74





	ain't misbehavin'

**Author's Note:**

> "Ain't Misbehavin'" by Fats Waller.

_New York, October 1929._

_No one to talk with  
All by myself_

Aziraphale sat alone in the corner of the dim night club. She sighed deeply, guiltily inhaling the scent of smoke and booze and sweat mingled in the air.

_That’s the scent of fun, angel_ drawled a terribly familiar voice in her mind.

It had been an awfully long decade. Each one seemed longer and longer as time passed. Innovation and progress, yes, Aziraphale admitted, but, along with them, always new pains and torments. Aziraphale looked out over the crowded sea of young people, dancing and laughing and drinking.

All in secret. All in hiding.

_And who sent them there?_ Aziraphale shut her eyes tightly to try to drown out the voice, welcome though the silky tones of it were. She tried not to imagine breath hot as Hellfire ghosting over her bare neck. The fashion of the time, even in this corporation, was to keep one’s hair short, after all. There were no wayward curls to be tucked behind her ear now by clever fingers before cleverer lips pressed to her throat…

_No one to walk with  
But I’m happy on the shelf_

Aziraphale held up her own fingers to signal the bartender. 

After her order had been taken, she sighed again. She knew what tomorrow would bring. She knew that the world was hurtling into more hurt and fear. Always always forever and ever amen.

She just needed this one night off. Just the one more drink and she’d miracle herself home. 

In the morning, she’d be good again.

_Ain’t misbehavin’  
I’m savin’ my love for you_

Aziraphale smoothed her hands once over her cream linen-covered knees before reaching across the bar to receive her second “Mary Pickford” of the evening. She was a wonderful actress, after all. Aziraphale, already a bit tipsy from rum, toasted silently to the empty seat to her right.

To Mary Pickford, she supposed.

She sipped the fresh drink eagerly, relishing the flavors of pineapple and cherry in her mouth. She closed her eyes again, attempting to drown out her anxiety with sensation. She tasted rum on her tongue, there was smoke in her nostrils, she fiddled with the cool stem of her glass beneath her fingers, she drank even more deeply of the music than she did of the rum.

_I know for certain  
The one I love  
I’m through with flirtin’  
It’s you that I’m thinking of_

Handsome and beautiful humans alike wandered by from time to time and asked her to dance. She turned them all down with a smile. It didn’t feel right. To know everything she did of human suffering and to take a turn with one of them on the dance floor anyway. Aziraphale played with the rules sometimes, she could admit it to herself. She did not go fooling with hearts.

Aziraphale downed her cocktail. She held up her fingers to order a third.

In the morning, she’d be good again. 

_Ain’t misbehavin’  
I’m savin’ my love for you_

Aziraphale regarded the rim of her glass, kissed as it was with her pale pink lipstick. She imagined what it might be like to see her mark left somewhere else. Pressed sweetly yet firmly to hot, tanned skin. 

Her shoulders were hunched up around her ears. _Breathe, Aziraphale._ She said it to herself, but she heard another voice. A shiver thrilled down her spine. 

It was fine. She had decided that this was fine long ago. These fantasies of hers were merely another indulgence, nothing else. They were a particularly moist slice of cake, they were an expertly crafted cocktail, they were her own fingers hiking up her skirt and finding herself already so very hot and wet and lonely. 

Maybe tonight. Yes, that would be lovely. The rum was making her feel gloriously loose. She felt open and free. She felt like anything other than herself. When the umpteenth human invited her to dance, she very nearly gave in. 

She combed her fingers through her short white-gold curls, pretending they were someone else’s.

_Like Jack Horner  
In the corner  
Don’t go nowhere  
What do I care?  
Your kisses are worth waitin’ for  
Believe me_

“Is this seat taken?” is what the low purr to her left wanted to know.

Aziraphale nearly fell off of her barstool. She twisted rather dramatically in her seat and oh. 

Oh.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, wonder and rum thick on her tongue.

“And what’s an angel like you doing in a place like this?” The demon grinned at her. Aziraphale was too tipsy to resist looking Crowley up and down. As usual, the demon had taken to the fashions of the times better than Aziraphale ever could. Crowley was every inch the daring flapper. Crimson hair bobbed, sequined neckline plunging, calves gleefully exposed. 

She was gorgeous.

“I’m…” Aziraphale struggled to come up with a good answer. What good deed could she possibly be doing in an illegal dance hall, intoxicated on rum and jazz?

In the morning, she’d be good again. For now, she’d tell the truth.

“I fancied a drink,” Aziraphale confessed. Crowley raised an eyebrow over her dark, round sunglasses. “Care to join me, my dear?”

Crowley took a step back and did her own once over of the angel. Aziraphale’s lips parted, breath coming to her a little more quickly as she was taken softly apart by Crowley’s gaze.

“How about a dance instead, angel?”

Crowley extended her hand,

_I don’t stay out late  
Don’t care to go  
I’m home by eight  
Just me and my radio_

Aziraphale placed her own hand in Crowley’s and allowed the demon to lead her into the thick of the dance floor. 

“I don’t know the steps,” Aziraphale confessed again as Crowley placed one hand at Aziraphale’s waist. Aziraphale curled her free hand around Crowley’s sharp shoulder blade. 

“When has knowing the steps ever gotten you anywhere you wanted to go?” Crowley asked, tugging Aziraphale in a little closer as the band struck up a new song.

“Oh, Crowley.”

They made a valiant effort of it. They were ungainly but eager, eager for the excuse to touch. They might have bumped into enough human couples that several angry glares were shot in their direction, but they hardly minded. They only had eyes for one another. 

_Ain’t misbehavin’  
I’m savin’ my love for you_

Crowley spun Aziraphale gently away and brought her back again, the angel’s back against her chest, their arms a tangle in front of Aziraphale’s chest. And, as Aziraphale had imagined so many times, Crowley did lean close to Aziraphale’s throat, her lips brushing angelic skin when she spoke:

“Relax, angel.”

Aziraphale shuddered in Crowley’s arms.

It had been a long decade. Long century. Long forever.

She turned her head just slightly over her shoulder, her lips close to Crowley’s.

“I don’t know how.” 

Crowley pressed her lips softly to the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth. Aziraphale thought she might shake out of her skin.

“Please,” Aziraphale heard herself beg.

Crowley snapped her long fingers. Time stopped, though the music kept playing.

“Ambiance,” she explained to Aziraphale’s questioning gaze. Aziraphale nodded. She quite understood. If they were finally arriving here, they might as well do it right.

Crowley turned Aziraphale in her arms, fingers stroking up and down her back. 

“I’ve got some ideas on relaxation,” Crowley murmured. “Do you trust me?”

Aziraphale knew that she couldn’t. She absolutely did not dare to say it out loud. But she did. She trusted that God’s plan was ineffable and she trusted that the demon known as Crowley, no matter what other foulness they concocted for the world, would never hurt her.

She pursed her lips and nodded her head.

In the morning, she’d be good again.

“It’s all right, Aziraphale,” Crowley whispered, bringing a hand up to the side of Aziraphale’s face. Aziraphale sighed at the touch, her shoulders settling just a little.

“That’s good, sweetheart.”

The encouragement felt so alien to her ears. Aziraphale looked around at the frozen dancers, at the frozen musicians and bartenders. At all of the unknowing souls who had arrived here tonight just looking to feel something… pleasant. 

Would they be punished? Was it wrong? How could Aziraphale help them?

“What is?” Aziraphale asked Crowley, dipping her head a little bit, nervous to meet the honesty behind Crowley’s glasses.

“What do you mean?”

“What’s ‘good?’” Aziraphale needed to know.

Crowley threaded both hands through Aziraphale’s short curls now, tilting her head back just enough to drag a small moan from the angel’s lips.

“Feeling good, Aziraphale,” Crowley answered. “Feeling good is good.”

“Show me,” Aziraphale asked again.

Crowley leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Aziraphale’s exposed neck. Aziraphale gasped at the unfamiliar sensation. It was _wonderful._

“I’m going to kiss you properly now, okay?”

Again, Aziraphale nodded fiercely. Crowley re-positioned her lovely hands, one around the back of Aziraphale’s head and another at the small of Aziraphale’s back. 

Crowley kissed Aziraphale on the mouth, slow and sweet and so certainly. And, again, the new feeling coursed through Aziraphale’s body like electricity. At the first touch, Aziraphale gasped a gasp that quickly turned into a moan and arched her back, pushing her breasts up against Crowley’s own. All at once, she pulled away, startled, bringing her hand up to her mouth.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she gasped, embarrassed at the enormity of her reaction. 

(It wouldn’t be written for two more years, but sometimes a kiss isn’t just a kiss.)

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Crowley growled. “You exceptional thing.”

Crowley wrapped her fingers around Aziraphale’s wrist and dragged it softly away from her mouth. Crowley brought Aziraphale’s hand up to her lips and kissed her soft fingers, once, twice, thrice. Aziraphale felt her treacherously knees wobble, threatening to give out.

“It’s quite overwhelming,” Aziraphale managed. “Feeling good.”

“Sounds like you need practice,” Crowley replied. Her voice was cool but strained.

Aziraphale looked around again at the faces of the stilled dancers surrounding them. They were radiant in their joy. Nearly undone in their happiness. Aziraphale thought she knew what it was to feel content, to feel soft, tidy pleasure fizzling down in her toes when she enjoyed a lovely meal or book or what-have-you. This was something else.

“I shouldn’t,” Aziraphale said, lamely, because she had to. Just in case Someone was listening.

“Yeah, me neither,” Crowley agreed for the benefit of ears Down Below.

“Well, then,” Aziraphale fiddled awkwardly with her hands, afraid that she perhaps had spoiled the moment.

“Are the formalities quite out of the way?” Crowley questioned.

Aziraphale nodded, looking down at her hands, feeling ridiculous.

Crowley snapped her fingers again and every other creature in the club vanished. Before Aziraphale could protest:

“I’ll bring them all back in one piece.”

Crowley brought her hands to Aziraphale’s waist.

“I’m going to kiss you _properly_ properly now, okay?”

Aziraphale frowned. “I don’t see how’s there’s a diff-”

And then she saw.

Crowley surged up against her, fingers tightening into the flesh at Aziraphale’s hips. Her mouth was hot and searching. When Aziraphale gasped into the kiss, Crowley slid her tongue into the angel’s mouth. Crowley wrenched her lips away long enough just to whisper into the angel’s ear.

“Let go, Aziraphale. Just do what feels good, angel.”

Aziraphale threw her arms around Crowley’s neck and pressed their bodies tightly against one another, bringing her lips back to Crowley’s. Aziraphale didn’t allow herself to think before she lightly bit down on Crowley’s bottom lip, illiciting a groan from the demon.

Crowley pulled Aziraphale’s hips tightly against her own, sliding her hands around to grasp at Aziraphale’s backside. Aziraphale drew her lips away from Crowley’s and dragged her tongue along the side of the demon’s long neck. Crowley made an impossible sort of noise in the back of her throat and now she was moving, backing Aziraphale up as she did. Aziraphale yelped when her back careened with the bar. Her hands scrabbled backwards in an attempt to steady herself and she nearly knocked over her unfinished cocktail.

_Just do what feels good, angel._

Aziraphale grabbed the drink and, before she could talk herself out of it, she placed one hand on Crowley’s chest to push her just enough away, and then she was pouring sticky-sweet rum and pineapple nonsense down Crowley’s front. It was Crowley’s turn to gasp, at the cool sensation and at Aziraphale’s boldness. Aziraphale leaned forward and lapped the drink off of Crowley’s collarbones. 

Crowley laughed, but it was kind and joyous. She put her own hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders to pull the angel back from her determined licking and sucking.

“You’ve ruined my dress, angel.”

“Not yet I haven’t,” Aziraphale sniffed just before she pushed the thin strips of the garment down Crowley’s shoulders and finally, summoning a touch of angelic strength, ripped the dress in two right off of her. 

Crowley stood before her topless and clad only in sheer black bloomers and her trendy little heels. Aziraphale looked at her and it didn’t matter that she’d been drinking rum cocktails for the past hour and a half. She had never been so thirsty in her entire existence.

“You’re magnificent, my dear,” she breathed, rewarded with a blush that travelled all the way into Crowley’s hair.

“This is supposed to be about you,” Crowley protested as Aziraphale stepped forward and brought her hands to the demon’s waist.

“And I can’t think of anything that would make me feel better,” Aziraphale insisted, spinning them so that Crowley’s back was now to the bar. “Up you get, darling.”

Mouth slightly open, Crowley hopped up onto the surface of the bar. 

“You will tell me if I do anything amiss, yes?”

“Promise.”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley and smiled, truthfully and gratefully happy, before bending down and taking one of Crowley’s small breasts into her mouth. Crowley cried out and slapped the sticky counter. Aziraphale flicked her tongue urgently against the nipple in her mouth, desperate to wring every noise she possibly could out of Crowley. When she pulled away, she noted with satisfaction the ring of pink lipstick she had left behind. She smiled again before turning her attention to Crowley’s other breast.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley gasped as the angel teased at her nipple with her teeth. Aziraphale rewarded her exclamation by sucking firmly.

Aziraphale pulled away just long enough to go on her tiptoes and kiss Crowley as hard as she possibly could. With each new taste and feel of Crowley’s body, with each whispered or shouted noise of encouragement, Aziraphale felt herself flooded with something like hope.

This was too wonderful. So, how could it be wrong?

As they kissed, Crowley spread her bloomer-clad legs apart, wrapping them around Aziraphale’s waist and pulling her even closer. Aziraphale’s fingers traced gently down Crowley’s naked sides, pausing at the top of the bloomers. 

“I do believe you’ll need to let me go for this next bit, my dear.”

“Never letting you go, you mad bastard. I’ve got you right where I want you.”

Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled. “Foul fiend.”

Crowley nipped at Aziraphale’s throat. “Angel mine.”

Aziraphale unwound Crowley’s legs from around her with care and then returned her attention to the waistband of those damned bloomers. Crowley bore down on the bar counter to lift her hips just enough that Aziraphale could slide the flimsy fabric away. 

And there she was. Beautiful, clever Crowley. Skinny and small-breasted and perfect, leaning back on her hands, her spread legs revealing the promise of a thatch of obviously damp red hairs.

Aziraphale knew it wasn’t necessary for this next part, but she suddenly felt desperate to be naked herself. To be as vulnerable and open with Crowley as Crowley was being with her. Aziraphale lifted her dress over her head and threw it to the floor, standing before Crowley now in a terribly practical white slip. She suddenly wished that she had indulged herself in something lacy and frilly and exciting. That she could be something beautiful for Crowley to unwrap.

If Crowley was at all disappointed in the presentation before her, she certainly didn’t show it. She slunk off of the bar and gathered Aziraphale in her arms, carrying them across the room once again until Aziraphale was now pressed against a wall.

“Let me, please?”

Aziraphale nodded, allowing Crowley to push the slip down off of her shoulders, finally pooling at her feet. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length, shamelessly looking up and down her body.

“Fuck, angel.”

And then Crowley crashed down to her knees as though she had been bowled over by the power of Aziraphale’s beauty. Crowley snatched the glasses off of her face and flung them somewhere behind her. She looked up, and Aziraphale gasped at the dazzling, brilliant sincerity shining in Crowley’s eyes.

“Let me take it all away for a bit, Aziraphale,” Crowley pleaded before turning her head to kiss the inside of Aziraphale’s barely parted thighs. 

_You’ve never taken anything away from me, my dear. You’ve only ever given._

(Is what Aziraphale was not yet brave enough to say.)

Once again, she nodded. Crowley turned to kiss the other thigh softly. She patted the outside of Aziraphale’s knee, urging it up and around her shoulder. Aziraphale complied immediately, bracing herself with her hands against the wall. 

_Ain’t misbehavin’  
I’m savin’ my love for you_

Crowley spread Aziraphale apart with her thumbs and pressed a kiss just there. Aziraphale sucked in a breath, surprised at each new touch and sensation that anything could feel better than the one before it. 

Crowley pulled back just one more time. Aziraphale looked down at her. For all her suredness and swagger earlier in the evening, there was a sad question now in Crowley’s amber eyes. Aziraphale petted the demon’s hair softly and shook her head “no.” 

Not that. Not yet.

Crowley nodded, closing her eyes. 

_I’m savin’ my love for you_

When Crowley opened her eyes again, there was a renewed determination and ferocity there. She dipped her head forward and dragged her tongue once over Aziraphale’s clit, experimental. Aziraphale’s back arched off of the wall and Crowley’s hands were on her hips, pushing her back. Holding her steady.

(Always.)

Crowley began to lick and kiss messily all over Aziraphale, gradually learning all of the cues of Aziraphale’s body. Aziraphale felt nearly driven mad. She couldn’t decide what she liked best. Because oh, the feeling of Crowley’s tongue pulsing softly against her clit. But oh, then there was Crowley’s tongue dipping inside of her, licking against her walls.

As though Crowley could read her mind, she settled her mouth on Aziraphale’s clit as she brought a long finger up to tease at the angel’s entrance. Aziraphale thought she felt Crowley grin against her as she cried out at this conjoined effort. She began to shudder against the wall as Crowley took her apart with her fingers and her tongue. As she lost herself in the feelings that were racing from the tips of her toes up to her scalp, she closed her eyes, willing herself to forget everything of Heaven, Hell, or Earth that wasn’t Crowley. Crowley’s fingers, two now, pushing in and out of her. Crowley’s tongue licking urgently against the most sensitive spot of her. Crowley’s eyes, screwed shut in determination. Crowley’s free hand, massaging the flesh at her hip. 

Crowley. Crowley. _Crowley._

“ _Crowley!_ ” Aziraphale wailed as her orgasm overtook her. 

Crowley fingered and licked her through the waves of pleasure crashing through her body. Aziraphale brought her hands weakly up to Crowley’s shoulders, intending to push her away, but _oh,_ she was there again already, crying out and trembling wildly. 

Crowley finally pulled away, gasping, and Aziraphale slid, completely overwhelmed, down the wall. They sat there on the floor, breathing and seeing one another, eyes alert and amazed. 

Aziraphale couldn’t stop shaking. Crowley reached forward and pulled her gently against her chest. 

“Shh, angel,” Crowley murmured against her hair. “It’s good. You’re good. We’re good.”

Aziraphale felt tears pricking hot at the corners of her eyes. 

“Hey,” Crowley stroked her back, her hair, the side of her face. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Aziraphale wanted to believe it, desperately. She couldn’t recall feeling better another night in her entire life. Couldn’t recall feeling more supported, more taken care of, more…

She opened her mouth to say it. Just once. Perhaps.

She couldn’t.

She clicked her mouth shut again and buried her face deeper into Crowley’s shoulder. 

“Oh, angel,” Crowley sighed sadly.

They stayed there on the floor until the sun rose on a new day, on a new disaster. Aziraphale pulled her dress back over her head and freshened up her lipstick. Crowley offered her a hand that she didn’t take.

It was the morning. She had to be Good again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
